


The Way We Once Kissed

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Alternate Season 1, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Cursed Storybrooke, F/M, S1 Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: In a cursed Storybrooke, when Mr Gold loses his cane in the middle of a rainstorm, Belle helps him to get home safely. However, this straightforward act of kindness has far-reaching consequences as the fabric of Regina’s curse begins to break…
Written for the Monthly Rumbelling prompt: "Mr Gold Loses His Cane"





	

**The Way We Once Kissed – A Monthly Rumbelling fic**

**Rated:** T

**Prompt:** Mr Gold Loses His Cane

**Summary:** In a cursed Storybrooke, when Mr Gold loses his cane in the middle of a rainstorm, Belle helps him to get home safely. However, this straightforward act of kindness has far-reaching consequences as the fabric of Regina’s curse begins to break…

**Word Count:** 4283

**Note:** This stands alone but it can also be read as a remix of one of my very first fics, [Waters to Restore and Return](http://archiveofourown.org/works/695370), hence its very specific setting in a rainstorm in cursed Storybrooke.

Some of the first part in italics is lifted from _Waters to Restore and Return_.

========

**The Way We Once Kissed**

_It’s raining when Belle returns to him, the most violent rain he’s ever known. He wouldn’t even have been aware of her return if he hadn’t happened to glance out of the window at the streak of lightning and saw her making her way up towards the castle, towards the side entrance by way of the kitchen herb garden. It’s sadly unkempt in her absence, and when he transports himself outside, uncaring for the torrential downpour, he finds Belle staring about herself at the remains of her little patch of nature._

_“Belle?” he breathes, unable to believe that she’s really here, that after everything she’s actually come back to him._

_She looks up and looks him dead in the eye, water dripping off the end of her nose._

_“I’m not going,” she says, hands on hips and chin raised defiantly. “Whether you like it or not, I’m here to stay.”_

_Rumpelstiltskin nods vigorously. “For as long as you wish.”_

_Belle ponders for a moment. “I do believe I promised forever.”_

_Still somewhat dumbstruck by this latest development, Rumpelstiltskin crosses the garden to her, gathering her up in his arms and pulling her as close as he possibly can, trying to convince himself that this is all real, this is all definitely happening, and it’s not just a figment of his imagination._

_“I love you, Rumpelstiltskin,” Belle says with a smile, pushing a sodden tendril of hair out of her face before hooking her arms around his neck. “And I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you see that, you silly man.”_

_“I love you too,” Rumpelstiltskin breathes, finally admitting to her what he has known all along._

_Belle grins, and leans in to press her lips against his. Rumpelstiltskin pulls back and Belle’s brow furrows, hurt._

_“I can't protect us without my power, Belle," he says. "I can't let anything happen to you, I won't. In any other world, I'd kiss you every minute of the day. But we need magic here. I've dragged you into my world, and we're in this mess too deeply now." He rests his forehead against hers, ignoring the cold trickle of water down his neck. "I love you, Belle. More than anything. But this power is the key to finding my son. I need to find him."_

_Belle wraps her arms around his middle and closes her eyes, pressing her forehead against his, as close to a kiss as they'll ever manage in this world._

_"I understand."_

_"Thank you."_

_Rumpelstiltskin doesn't know how long they stay there, embracing in the pouring rain, foreheads touching._

_"This is our kiss," Belle says eventually. "This is how I know you love me."_

_Their kiss serves them well, until the time comes when they must separate in order for everything to be in place for the curse and their journey to another world, any other world, in which they can kiss to their heart’s content. Even so, Belle manages to sneak into Rumpelstiltskin’s dungeon on that fateful day, and as the swirling magic hits them, they are there, hands clasped and foreheads touching through the bars, wondering if they’ll ever see each other again…_

 

Oh, she’d been clever, Regina, when she’d pulled them through into this land without magic. Rumpelstiltskin always liked to think he was the master wordsmith, but then again, she did learn many things from him. When he’d traded in the knowledge of how to enact the curse, he had asked in return that Belle be safe and unharmed when they came through.

And so she is.

In the arms of another man.

Sir Gaston, who had spent several months in a vase on Rumpelstiltskin’s dining table, is now Gerard Chevalier, the proprietor of the gunmaker’s married to the beautiful librarian, Annabelle French.

As soon as he found her in this new world, and found that she had no recollection of the previous one, Rumpelstiltskin made a vow to stay away as much as physically possible. It’s for self-preservation more than anything. The less he has to see Anna on Gerard’s arm, the less he feels like a little piece of himself is breaking off when she turns those azure eyes on him and sees only the lonely, ill-tempered pawnbroker who terrorises her town but can never bring himself to spare a harsh word for her. So he avoids her, and she, for her part, avoids him. Of course she does. Who would seek his company, with his reputation? They meet once a month, on rent day, when he knocks on her door and she hands over the cheque with a bright smile. At least she is not scared of him like the rest of the town. He takes the money, returns her smile, and feels his heart break a little more when she shuts the door.

It never stops him hoping that one day, Anna will come rushing into his shop, her memories restored, and they can kiss like he’d promised, in any other world.

X

Once time begins moving again in the wake of Emma’s arrival, things begin to change. There is a trace of sorrow behind Anna’s eyes when she smiles at him as she hands over the rent.

“Mr Gold,” she says suddenly, once the necessary pleasantries have been exchanged and he is about to leave. “I… Would you like a cup of tea?”

It’s the first time she’s invited him inside her home, invited him further into her life beyond the usual interactions of landlord and tenant. Perhaps this is it, the curse has broken and she remembers him. But no, only Emma has the power to break the curse and she’s still a long way off doing that now. He should take her up on the offer, talk to her; get to know her in this land. But something inside him is too scared of the pain and the unconscious rejection: here in this house he is surrounded by evidence of Anna’s life with Gerard reminding him that it should have been Belle’s life with him. It’s a pain he could not bear. So he shakes his head, and spins an excuse as easily as he used to spin gold from straw.

“I doubt your husband would approve of you inviting the local monster home for tea, Mrs Chevalier.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You’re not a monster.” Her tone is still subdued. “Gerard doesn’t control my life; I can invite whoever I like home for tea. No-one decides my fate but me.”

The words are familiar, but coming from Anna’s mouth without Belle’s conviction, they don’t ring true.

“Is something wrong, Belle?” he asks, because it’s obvious that she’s unhappy. Perhaps she has been unhappy these past twenty-eight years, but it has taken the arrival of moving time to allow her to realise it.

She shakes off the question, answering it with another.

“Why do you call me Belle?” she asks. “Everyone shortens my name to Anna, except you.”

He hadn’t meant to call her Belle. Normally he doesn’t use her first name at all. It just slipped out, because she looks so sad and subdued and unlike her old self – even before Emma’s arrival she had seemed content – that he wanted to know what was wrong.

“I think it suits you better. It’s a prettier name. You look more like a Belle than an Anna.” Of course she does, because she _is_ Belle. “I apologise.”

“No, no, it’s all right. I prefer it too. It feels… right.”

She smiles properly for the first time since she opened the door, but it soon fades as she looks over Gold’s shoulder.

“Annie, what’s _he_ doing here?”

Gold turns to see Gerard Chevalier coming up the path.

“Mr Gold came to collect the rent, like he does every month,” Anna explains patiently to her husband.

“Yeah, well he’s got it now, so he can piss off.”

“We were just chatting, Gerard,” says Anna coolly, “and I would thank you not to swear at the man who owns our house.”

Gerard enters the house and takes Anna’s wrist in a firm grip, meaning to pull her back from the door.

“Stop harassing my wife, Gold, or I’ll call the sheriff,” he snarls.

“I wasn’t aware that engaging in polite conversation constituted harassment, Mr Chevalier, but I’ll bear it in mind,” Gold replies with a sneer. “Good day, Mrs Chevalier.”

He turns away and the door slams shut behind him, chipping off another little piece of his heart. Belle is comparatively safe and as yet physically unharmed (he’s going to be keeping a close eye on Gerard Chevalier, though), but she is nowhere near _happy_.

As he limps down the path, he hears the conversation behind closed doors.

“Gerard, that was uncalled for, embarrassing and incredibly rude.”

“Annabelle, the man’s a predator! He can’t be trusted! He’s twice your age and he preys on vulnerable young women. Look at Ashley Boyd. He practically bought her baby, for crying out loud.”

“Funny how no-one thinks to put any blame on the man who sold it,” Anna spits. “And thank you, Gerard, so much.”

The sarcasm in her voice is positively dripping, and Gold allows himself to feel a small nuance of pride.

“For what?”

“Thinking I’m _vulnerable_.”

Gold smiles weakly. That’s his Belle, shining through her downtrodden existence. There’s still a kernel of the brave duchess she once was hidden in there somewhere. Maybe, just maybe…

X

It’s the storm that does it in the end, the storm that brings them together. It’s been raining heavily all week; Gold has been doing the rent rounds with an umbrella. He had wondered if perhaps Anna would invite him in again, but for the first time in twenty-eight years it is Gerard who answers his knock, handing over the cheque and slamming the door in his face without a word.

So now, although he could so easily drive it, Gold is making his way home through the pouring rain, not quite sure why except out of nostalgia for the last time he saw a rain this violent, when he and Belle were finally reunited in the herb garden after he had driven her from the castle and she had, against all the odds, returned to him.

Lost in thought, he’s paying less than perfect attention to where he’s going, and he slips on the wet road. His cane doesn’t find purchase until it’s too late and he ends up sprawled in an ungainly heap in a puddle. He can taste blood pooling in his mouth and spits it onto the street. Ugh. He hit his bad leg hard against the tarmac on his way down and it’s going to take him a while to get back onto his feet. Gold just thanks whatever deity’s up there that there’s no-one around to see him in his plight.

The thanks are immediately revoked when he hears a car pull up beside him.

“Oh my word, are you all right?”

It’s Belle’s voice that rings in his ears, and Belle’s little hands that gently take his shoulders and pull him upright, letting him lean the full balance of his weight against her and she bends to retrieve his cane, but it’s already washing down the gutter in the rain.

“Leave it,” he snaps, more concerned with how wet she’s getting than with his own discomfort. Anna readjusts her hold on him and gets him back on his feet.

“Thank you, Mrs Chevalier,” he says, but he can’t bring himself to look at her, ashamed of his weakness. He’s meant to be the one who protects her from the world’s perils, not the other way around.

“Come on, let me drive you home.”

“I’m quite all right, thank you, Mrs Chevalier,” he says, because suddenly, he can’t face spending any more time with her than necessary, knowing that she belongs with another in this world, and he is already in physical pain; who knows what he might divulge in his vulnerable state.

“You’re hurt.” It’s a statement, not a question, and when Rumpelstiltskin looks at Anna, he finally sees just Belle, all Belle, all her bravery and determination and stubbornness. And because he could never deny Belle anything, he lets her open the passenger door of her little red car.

“I’m all wet,” he protests – admittedly feebly – as a pathetic last resort.

Belle rolls her eyes.

“Yes, I can see that, Mr Gold. Now get in the car.”

So he obeys her, because she has always held him in thrall far more efficiently than the Dark One’s dagger, and she drives through the dark and wet towards his home. She turns the heater up to max but he’s still shivering when they reach his drive.

"Thank you, Mrs Chevalier," Gold says.

"It's my pleasure," Belle replies. "And please, call me Belle."

He nods, glad of whatever little bits of Belle's personality that can bleed through into this accursed world until Emma Swan breaks the spell and everything returns to the way it should be. He makes to open the car door and get out, still not entirely sure how he's going to manage to actually get up the steps and into his house. Belle opens her own door and rushes around the car in the deluge to help him.

"Belle, I really must insist," he tries to protest.

"I'm not going to dump you in your driveway in the rain and drive off," Belle says, her voice determined. "Come on, let's get you inside. The longer you argue the wetter I'll get."

She's got a point, so Gold lets her help him out of the car with an arm around her shoulders, and together they stumble up the steps and get into the warm, dry house. Once inside, Gold can grab his spare cane from the umbrella stand, an ugly metal thing, but fit for purpose, and Belle stands off to one side, dripping on the doormat. Now that she's inside, and looking like a drowned rat into the bargain, it would be uncharitable not to invite her in and warm her up in return for all the help she has given to him.

"I'll get some towels," he says, making for the stairs. "And I'll make some tea."

"I can do the tea." Belle eases her soaked shoes off and wrings her hair out onto the mat. "Are you going to be ok up the stairs?" she adds, eyeing his bloody hands and face, and the ankle he's still having trouble putting weight on even with his cane.

"I'll be fine," he snaps, because her concern is overwhelming having been so long without it, and he needs to push her away before he gives himself away.

"Ok then." Belle doesn't seem at all convinced but doesn't push the point. "I'll make tea," she reiterates firmly, and he can't argue, simply pointing her in the direction of the kitchen as he makes his way to the bathroom. Stripping off his ruined suit and drying off as best he can, he assesses the damage, cleaning his cuts and grazes. He'll have to ice the joint, and he remembers evenings so many years ago when Bae would help him apply compresses and poultices. This is for Bae, he reminds himself. Going through this tedious curse and coping with this tedious pain is all worth it, all to get back to Bae.

When he gets back to the kitchen in dry clothes with a bunch of towels under his arm, Belle is standing by the kettle, blowing the steam off a mug of tea. She smiles when she sees him and he puts the towels on the table.

"You strike me as a honey and lemon kind of tea-drinker, but I wouldn't want to presume," she says, indicating the other mug on the side beside her.

Gold smiles, because Belle always served his tea with honey and lemon back in the Dark Castle.

"You would have presumed correctly," he says.

"Excellent." She adds a spoon of honey and a slice of lemon from the board to his mug and hands it to him, and as their fingers touch around the warm ceramic and their eyes meet through the tendrils of steam, he's reminded of other times in other kitchens, and, like now, being so close and yet so very far away. The urge to lean in, close his eyes and nudge his forehead to hers is unbearably strong, and he jerks away as if he's been stung.

"I'll let you..." He tails off, indicating the towels and the soft bathrobe on top of them. "I can put your clothes in the dryer if you want."

Excellent, not only is he acting like a skittish bat, he's now just told her to get undressed in his kitchen.

Belle just smiles.

"Thanks."

They look at each other for a moment more, so much hanging unsaid in the air between them, then Gold turns abruptly and leaves the room, going into the dark living room and sitting down in the wingback chair with his tea. The lemon juice stings his cut lip, and the pain is enough to ground him, to bring him back to the present where he is Mr Gold and Belle is Annabelle Chevalier née French and they've never had the depth of love that he remembers with such heartache.

His eyes alight on the chipped cup that still stands in pride of place on the mantelpiece, a mocking reminder of the life they once had that is now so very far out of reach.

"Mr Gold?"

Belle tiptoes into the room on bare feet, wrapped up in his robe with the too-long sleeves flopping down over her hands where she holds her mug.

"Thank you for your hospitality," she says, perching on the sofa opposite him.

"It's the least I can do. Thank you for your kindness."

She shrugs. "We're all human, in the end. We all need help, in different ways."

She looks wistful, and Gold wonders if she's thinking about her husband. Presently, she catches his eyeline.

"It's chipped," she says, peering at the cup.

"You can hardly see it," Gold replies, remembering her words at the castle on that first day.

Belle laughs. "Why do you keep a chipped cup?" she asks.

"Of all the treasures I own, my dear, that's the one thing I truly cherish." He doesn't say more than that, and Belle just looks at him, with her head on one side, then she shakes her head with a sigh, and looks down into the depths of her mug.

"What is it?" Gold asks.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Nothing important." Finally she looks up at him. "I've just been having some strange dreams, lately. Ever since Emma came to town, actually. They're fantastical, of course, imps and dragons and dark magicians and dangerous creatures. But they're so... vivid."

"They say that dreams are just memories of another life, you know," Gold replies.

Belle chuckles. "Another life involving dragons and dark magicians?" The corner of her mouth quirks up in a smile as Gold shrugs. "Do you... do you believe in past lives, Mr Gold? Reincarnation?"

Gold gives a slow nod. "I believe in a lot of things."

They sit there in silence for a long while, Belle still transfixed by the cup on the mantel.

"I just can't help feeling that I've seen it before," she murmurs.

Gold drains his mug and pushes himself to his feet. "I'll see to the dryer. Take a closer look, if you want."

"Oh no," Belle says. "I wouldn't want to drop it."

It's Gold's turn to chuckle.

"It wouldn't be the first time," he mutters as he leaves the room. Luckily, Belle gives no indication of having heard him.

He picks his way into the kitchen and checks on the dryer, but before he can do anything else, he hears the padding of Belle's feet over the floor behind him. He doesn't turn, waiting for her to speak.

When she does, the word from her lips is one he had almost given up any hope of hearing again.

"Rumpel?" she begins softly, hesitantly, trying to gauge whether or not he remembers too.

Rumpelstiltskin turns to face his True Love as she looks at him with full clarity for the first time in twenty-eight years.

"My darling Belle."

She smiles, nervously at first, then the expression spreads over her features.

"I remember," she says, holding up the chipped cup. "As soon as I picked it up, it all came back to me. I remember everything. I remember I love you."

"I love you too."

There's a beat then, a moment of silence as they take each other in, in full remembrance of that other life that they had shared. Belle carefully places the chipped cup on the counter, and then she's in his arms, her weight landing against his chest making him stagger, and her face buried in his shoulder as her arms come around his middle, holding him as close as she possibly can.

"I thought I had lost you," Belle says. "Back in the dungeon when the curse hit. I thought that I would never see you again."

"I'm here," Rumpelstiltskin soothes, stroking her hair. "We're both here."

Belle looks up at him, blue eyes shining with happiness, and she goes up on tiptoes, making to press her mouth against his. He touches his fingers to her lips before she can reach him, shaking his head.

"We can't, Belle."

"But this is any other world," Belle says. "You couldn't kiss me before because you needed your power, but you said that in any other world... You don't have magic here."

"I know." Rumpelstiltskin sighs, and he knows he has to let go of her but he can't, so his arms keep her close. "But you're a married woman here, and I'm the town monster. Regina doesn't know that either of us remember. We have to keep it that way."

Belle shakes her head, and there are tears welling in her eyes.

“Married to a husband I don't love, I didn't choose, I don't want to be with!"

"I know. I don't want you to be with him either, but we have to make sure that Emma can break the curse. If Regina finds out that it's weakening, that you and I remember, then she'll do everything in her power to keep the status quo."

"And we'll never be able to leave." Belle sighs. "Can't we... You know... Be discreet?"

"You've seen how well that's working out for David and Mary Margaret," Rumpelstiltskin replies.

"Yes, but they don't remember!"

"All the same, they're still a sign of the curse weakening, and Regina is still trying everything she can to break them apart again."

Belle takes a step back out of his arms and immediately he feels her loss. She scrubs her hands over her face to rub away her tears.

"So this is it, then? I just have to go back to pretending that I don't feel anything for you? We go back to meeting once a month for the rent and having nothing to do with each other?"

"I think that would be safest," Rumpelstiltskin replies. "Don't give Regina any cause to suspect."

Belle shakes her head.

"I can't do that, Rumpel. I just can't."

"We have to. It's bad enough for Snow and Charming, but for you it would be worse. You know my reputation, both over here and back home. It would end badly for you, worse than for Snow and Charming simply by dint of my being the other party involved."

Belle nods, accepting but melancholy, and she looks up at him again.

"Kiss me," she says. "Just once."

"Belle."

"Kiss me the way we once kissed. Just once. Just so that I know you love me."

He crosses the kitchen towards her, and she goes up on her toes again as he nudges his forehead against hers. For the long minutes they stay like that, they could be back in the Enchanted Forest, sharing an intimate moment that must not, cannot, be allowed to go any further.

Finally, they can cling to it no longer, and they move apart.

"I should go," Belle says. "If I stay any longer, I'll be tempted never to leave."

Rumpelstiltskin moves out of the kitchen to allow her to dress. She's still a little damp and dishevelled when she emerges, but her strength is there, her determination shining through.

"I will see you again," she says as she passes him in the hall.

Gold nods. "I know." There's a long pause, in which he wants to invite her to stay with him forever and hole up in his house and let the world crash down around their ears for all he cares, but this is for Bae. All this pain, all this heartache, it's all for him, and they both know that these hardships must be borne in his name.

"Goodbye, Belle."

She smiles sadly, touches his cheek.

"Goodbye, Rumpel."

Rumpelstiltskin watches as his True Love walks out into the evening, a late sun beginning to peep through the dark clouds that have just stopped their downpour. She looks back at him as she gets in her car, and she stands there bathed in the weak rays, a brief flicker of light in an ocean of darkness.

Soon, he thinks as she drives away from him. Soon Emma will break the curse, soon things will return to the way they should be, and soon he will kiss Belle as he promised, in any other world.


End file.
